


Spawn

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: creature!Lock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angsty Demon Lover, Demonlock, Human John, John Watson is Crazy Knocked Up, M/M, Mpreg, its all consensual this time, monster love, monsterlock, rapid pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t meant to get John pregnant.</p><p>An attempt at Love and Horror in the same headspace.<br/>With some MPreg kink in there too, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spawn

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't want to be launching a new series, but I have so many creature!Lock ideas (DragonLock, CentaurLock, RamJohn, TentacleLock, OctoJohn) that here it is. Stay tuned for all the crap I just listed. 
> 
> Some will be lighter than others, promise.

 

 

He hadn’t meant to get John pregnant.

Sherlock watches John as he moves about the kitchen, humming lightly to himself.

 _He’s so happy_.

A familiar mixed feeling of joy and dread grips Sherlock as he thinks this, as John turns to him with the steaming teapot and a smile.

“Tea for two, love.” He says playfully, “and we’d best enjoy it while we can, it won't be just you and I for very long...”

Sherlock forces himself to smile. His hand meets John’s bulging stomach instinctively as John leans in to pour. John stops, gazes down at Sherlock as he pushes his palm into the swollen flesh. It ripples under his cool touch. Life responding to life. His own responding to himself.

“So big, already, John.”

“Yeah... I think...don’t you think it could be twins, or maybe even...”

Sherlock nods, and takes the teapot out of John’s hands. He needs to tell him. He must. How he dreads it though.

“Sit down.” he says to John, and John complies, because John does most things he says with a sense of complete trust - though Sherlock doesn’t know - will never know - why. He pours John’s tea.

“You know, it would be good to know. I think I really should get an ultrasound soon, love...” says John, very cautiously. Sherlock knows he went a bit overboard the last time the subject came up, his reaction bordering on madness. John was obviously shaken by the event; worried.

He’d held off at Sherlock’s hysterics; the insistence that John stay away from the procedure, from any aspect of the hospital at all. But John is a doctor, a natural protector, strong willed in his own right. Sherlock knows he can’t keep John from doing what he thinks is right for their “baby” forever.

A sliver of panic spikes through him.

The thought of John discovering that way - seeing what lives inside his belly, what’s making him bigger by the day, growing by leaps and bounds, for John to turn and look at Sherlock, to suddenly see him as he is - no. He must be the one to tell him. He must.

“Wait a little longer, John, please?” John looks at Sherlock, worry resurfacing. He’s about to speak, but instead his hand goes to his belly.

“Oh... baby’s restless!” He says. John’s excitement, his naive joy nearly breaks Sherlock’s heart there and then. How can he shatter such happiness? Turn John’s dream into a nightmare?

 

“There are reasons our kind don’t mix with humans. It isn't taboo for nothing.” Mycroft had said. Sherlock had snarled at the obviousness of the statement.

“And yet, you clearly could have used a reminder, baby brother.” Mycroft studied the tip of his umbrella, its silver gleaming next to his impeccable shoes. Sherlock had kept his gaze steady on the grey surface of the Themes.

“It’s a real pity; it seemed like he was good for you...” Sherlock’s head snapped around and he’d glared at his brother.

“Surely you don’t think this can go any other way? You have what - some grand dream of allowing things to go forward? Imagining a little family of your own? You _know_ , full well that can't happen! Once you start things will only escalate... you won’t be able to stop, and that will be trouble for the rest of us. Even you are not that self centered.”

Mycroft laid a gloved hand gently on his brother’s shoulder.

“Worry not, we’ll find you another.”

****

“Wow, I’m really hungry suddenly.” John reaches for the plate of biscuits. His hands are shaking, his skin suddenly sickly pale. Sherlock knows Jaffa Cakes won’t do the trick. He jumps to his feet.

“John, I have something for you.” John looks up, munching. “Wait one minute, I’ll prepare it.”

“Okay,” he swallows, “ meantime, can you pass me the rest of the biscuits?”

Ten minutes later Sherlock sets the plate down. John looks at it quizzically.

“Steak Tartare?” he asks.

“You - you’re obviously iron deficient. Eat it. I got it just for you.” John picks up his fork.

“It’s good.” he says after a bite, and Sherlock knows John’s body is wholly his, dedicated to being a host. There is no mistaking what’s on his plate for steak tartare or anything else other than what it is. Sherlock watches John eat and considers the concepts of reversal of fortune, the delicacy of fate. ** **  
****

Sherlock had expressed no regret afterwards. Of course, Mummy wasn’t pleased at all. His brother had been valuable, would have to be replaced. And there is the matter of the coming flood of offspring and the conflict they are sure to bring. Fortunately for Sherlock, of all her children he is her favorite. He’s been forgiven, just barely.

****

“Mmmmmm. That was... is there... is there any more?” says John a minute later.

“There’s lots.” Sherlock serves John a second and third helping. He reflects he will have to go out sooner than he’d realized. His offspring are greedy and eager. John will be huge in no time.

 

“I feel so good now!” Says John. He is flushed, radiant. Attractive.

Sherlock looks at John’s belly. He has grown larger over the course of the meal. Of course, one might rationalize it’s from the large amount of food John’s just consumed, but Sherlock knows better. John will start giving birth much sooner than he thinks. Perhaps even sooner than Sherlock anticipates. Mycroft was potent. He’s accelerated the timetable.

 _Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!_ says one half of his heart.

 _You will lose him! Terrify him! Destroy him!_ says the other.

“I love you.” Sherlock says in desperation. “I really love you, John.”

John beams.

“I love you too.”

“What... are you doing?”

“I feel so good... I feel so... Sherlock, please take me now...” John begins pulling off his clothes. He pushes himself onto Sherlock’s lap as best he can, his rolling, growing belly between them.

Sherlock shudders. John’s swollen body - inundated with Sherlock’s progeny, well on the way to enormity - excites him more than anything he’s experienced before.

He thinks briefly how nothing feels better than a _willing_ human. His kind usually just take; but this rare pleasure of being _given_   _to_ \- it out measures everything else. Especially when the human pretends to be taken, which John quickly figured out Sherlock liked. Clever, lovely John. Mycroft had never experienced its like; would have never understood it.

All the stories of his kind being enslaved through love always sounded silly to Sherlock, but now he understands completely; he would do _anything_ John asked of him.

“Give me a baby.” asks John, unfortunately.

“What?”

“I want you to fuck me; fuck me so hard, fill me up with so much come you make another baby in me... I want to have more... lots of them. I want you to get me even more pregnant, want you to make me...”

“John...” John has opened Sherlock’s trousers, has easily brought his cock to readiness. Sherlock feels a giddy helplessness consuming him.

“C'mon, play along.” whispers John in Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock knows this is a dangerous game; what John sees as role play is a breath away from becoming reality.

As much as Sherlock finds himself attached to John, John is hopelessly attached to Sherlock; in love, his human body addicted to Sherlock’s disguised, inhuman one - and now given over to being bred. John’s subconscious physical desire is surfacing as fantasy. And being what he is, feeling as he does, Sherlock can’t resist John’s wishes.

“Put another baby in me,” insists John again, “Take me, force me, make me. Fill me up with them.” Sherlock moans. His eager erection is guided deep inside the soft warmth of the mortal flesh he is slave to.

****

He leaves John sleeping. John’s body is exhausted, after the conception of a second and then third brood. Sherlock is euphoric, but tired too; he wasn’t anticipating the level of fecundity they now share. He’s already feeling the desire to do it again. But Sherlock loves John, will take care of his needs first. In fact, he _only_ wants to take care of John now, and perhaps continue impregnating him. He wonders if this is where the true taboo happens, lust becoming love becoming ... more.

Sherlock looks again at John’s swelling belly. The burgeoning life inside him visibly squirms under the surface. Soon he’ll be bursting with it. His stomach is twice the size it was this morning, the three amniotic sacks ballooning rapidly, competing for space. John is in for a difficult time. Sherlock supposes humanity might be as well. He only feels a deep contentment.

Sherlock picks up the last three case files Lestrade’s sent over. Too easy, too dull, he’s already said no to them. But the murderer, the sex offender, the abuser in each one will be easy to find and hardly missed, which suits his purposes nicely. He must feed his young, lest they start eating his love from the inside out.

When he returns with the food, he will feed John, he thinks, and he will tell him. And then they will make dozens more that very night, because Mycroft was right, now that they’ve started, there is no stopping what’s between them...

**Author's Note:**

> ... and that's how Sherlock n John brought about the end of the world! \\( ﾟヮﾟ)/


End file.
